Strap In For A Wild Break!

Summer keeps an eye out for the courier. She likes the way Chanel fills out that uniform. When the truck pulls up, Summer answers the door bare except for the thick strap-on already strapped between her thighs. “Oh—sorry,” she says, feigning surprise. “I wasn’t expecting a package.” Chanel’s gaze dips, lingers, then snaps back up. She clears her throat, pen hovering. “Need a signature.” Summer steps aside, the harness snug around her hips. “Come on in. Might as well sign it on the table.” Once the door closes, she tilts her head. “Long day behind the wheel. Don’t you deserve a break?” Chanel bites her lip. The clipboard hits the counter. She’s on her back seconds later, shorts peeled down, natural tits freed from her bra. Summer’s fingers part her first—slow circles, then two fingers deep, coaxing slick warmth until Chanel’s hips rock. The strap-on waits, glistening with lube. Summer presses in, steady and thick. Chanel gasps, legs wrapping tight. Each thrust lands with a wet sound, the harness creaking, Summer’s stomach flexing. She keeps a hand between them, thumb on Chanel’s clit, matching the rhythm. The phone rings. Chanel’s boss. Summer doesn’t stop. She stays buried, rolling her hips in short, grinding strokes while Chanel answers, voice shaking, trying to sound normal. Every time she stammers, Summer pushes deeper, silent and merciless, until the call ends and Chanel can finally moan out loud again.